A Halfpenny's Worth
by EvilsApprentice
Summary: The only family Nancy has ever known is a gang of robbers and pickpockets. Before she is old enough to reason morality she's thrust into a life of crime. Bill Sikes is the only man in her life who has shown her even a bit of affection. But after spending 9 years in jail, is there any kindness left in Bill anymore? An exploration of the relationship between Bill and Nancy.


"Come on now, Nance, hurry up!"

Nancy could hear the voice calling her up ahead, but she couldn't see which direction it came from. It was very easy to get lost in the bustle of the London streets in the morning; the large skirts of the ladies that blocked her way as they passed; the carts of bread and fish that towered over her so that she could almost walk directly underneath them; the dirt that people's shoes kicked up making her eyes water- if someone didn't hold her hand, it was impossible to keep up with anyone.

Nancy hurried forward- she knew if she stopped she'd be trampled underfoot, or run over by a wagon or a cart, and like as not no one would even notice.

"Harry!" Nancy squeaked shrilly. "Harry, where did'ya go?"

"Nancy!" Harry's voice called back to her. She stopped, and whipped around, unable to hear where it was coming from. She pivoted again, and almost lost her footing as she was jostled aside by an enormous skirt.

Right as she regained her balance, a hand caught hers and yanked her along. "I swear, Nance, someone's gonna grab you up one day if you don't keep close," Harry said as he pulled her behind him.

"Fagin said you gotta keep watchout for me!" Nancy cried.

"Yeah, though a fat load of good you are to be babysat for," Harry rejoined.

"I'm not a baby!" Nancy protested, struggling to free her hand to prove it.

"Come on then," Harry replied, increasing his pace and keeping a tight grip on her little hand.

Through the winding, dirty streets they went. Nancy was led along like a dog on a leash, knocked about by passers-by. She managed to stay on her feet, however, and they finally made it back to the alleyway below their flat, where Harry finally relinquished her hand.

"You didn't lose 'em, did'ya?" Harry asked as they hurried up the rotten wooden steps.

"Nope, still got 'em!" Nancy exclaimed, pulling a large pocket-watch and a snuffbox out of a pocket sewn onto her small skirt. And hadn't that been a time, getting them! Nancy's face was still flushed with pride at how well she had done.

They reached the top of the steps, and Harry whistled shrilly and said, "Oy!" he called.

"Who dunnit?" came a voice through the door.

"I dunno, yer honour," Harry replied with a grin.

The door swung open and Harry and Nancy both entered. The door shut quickly behind them.

The flat was small, and meanly furnished. Upon the floor was a filthy, frayed rug that might once have been green, but was now gray-brown and covered in dust. In the center of the room was a long wooden table covered in old plates, mugs, candles, and papers. Above that, hanging up, was a clothesline where hung dozens of fine silk handkerchiefs of every color, which, to a stranger, might appear like decorations for some long- concluded party. There were stairs to the right of the door that led up to another floor, and next to the stairs was a stone fireplace, where stood a huge pot filled with some soup or gruel. Next to the fireplace were moth- eaten yellow cushioned chairs, which were stained and almost coming apart at the seams.

In all, the place was dismal, dirty, and poorly looked after. But, it was warm, and always filled with chatter and bustle and children's laughter, and it was the only place Nancy could remember having called home.

"Faguey my man, we're back!" Harry called.

At this, a hand clasped Nancy tightly on the shoulder, and a voice next to her said, "My dears! And how did your little venture go?"

Nancy turned around and looked up at Fagin, who's wrinkled, dirty hand remained upon her shoulder. From her pocket she again produced her trinkets.

"Look what I got, Fagin!" she exclaimed, handing them to him. He took them from her, and led her and Harry over by the fire, the better to see their prizes.

He held the pocket- watch before him and inspected it closely, then did the same with the snuffbox. Nancy grasped her skirt with both hands and stood fidgeting anxiously. Fagin's face betrayed no hint of emotion as he slowly examined each item. Harry, unperturbed, threw himself into a chair and produced a long pipe from his pocket, which he began smoking languidly.

At last, Fagin looked up at Nancy and smiled- a frightful smile. "Pretty things, my Nancy! Very pretty things!" he said, ruffling her hair. "Very good for your first venture!"

Nancy beamed. "I did just as you told me! I fell afore a very fine lady an' her gent and cried and cried, an' they didn't even notice Harry takin' the pretty things off'en them! Did they?" she asked Harry, turning for his assent.

"Not one bit," Harry affirmed, still lounging in the chair.

Fagin laughed heartily. "You have the makin's of a good'un, Nance. The very best." He placed the things in his pocket and patted her head again. "Have something to eat, my girl, have some stew."

As he turned to begin preparing a bowl for her, there came a loud, banging knock at the door. Fagin's eyes widened, and gestured quickly to Harry for him to open it. "Hurry now, my dear," he muttered.

Nancy ran over to the table and kneeled upon one of the chairs, waiting for her stew. Fagin, meanwhile, forgot all about the stew and eagerly wrung his hands as Harry made to open the door.

Harry opened the door and scuttled away as two gentlemen entered. The first one was a young, stocky man, with so much dirt on his unshaven face that Nancy couldn't tell what color his beard was, and hardly recognized him. But his eyes were clear to see- his large, dark blue eyes that would identify him to Nancy anywhere. His associate, who entered second, was of an age with him, with a small face and large ears and no beard at all.

"Alright, are we, Bill?" Fagin asked apprehensively.

Bill didn't answer. Instead he dropped into a chair across from the girl and pulled off his filthy, wet boots. His friend sat next to him. Fagin approached hesitantly.

"Would you like a drink, my dears?" Fagin asked. Bill nodded his assent, pulling a kerchief out of his pocket and proceeding to wipe the dirt off of his face. "Nancy," Fagin said, "get these two fine gents a drink, will ya?"

Nancy leapt off her chair and hurried to the small cabinet where the drinks were kept low so people her height could easily access them. She knew what Bill always drank when he came over- the green bottle. She got a glass as well, and scrambled back over to the table. She blushed slightly as she set the glass and the bottle before him, needing to reach up very high indeed to do so. He didn't acknowledge her, but yanked the cork out of the bottle with his teeth and drank straight from it.

"And what am I?" his friend demanded, "chopped liver? 'Ere girl, get me a bottle as well!" he barked at Nancy.

"What, don't you got legs?" Bill growled. "Let the girl alone."

At this Nancy blushed even harder and ran back to get another bottle.

She handed it to the gentleman, and he too popped the cork out and drank from the bottle. She then scurried back to her chair, where she kneeled once again to watch the boys intently. Fagin, meanwhile, pulled up a chair with Bill and his friend- Toby, Nancy believed his name was, and began speaking with them.

"Did you get the job done, then?" he asked quietly.

Harry, who had been standing by the door watching the two young gentlemen in awe, quickly came to his senses and slunk quietly back to his chair by the fireplace, where he once again began smoking in earnest, and pretended not to listen.

"Did we? O'course we did, when have we ever not gotten a job done?" Toby laughed an ugly, snorting laugh and nudged Bill, who didn't even smile. Instead he pulled from his pocket a small sack, then another from another pocket, and another, and another, and Toby did the same. They placed the sacks on the table, until there were a dozen between them, and Bill handed one to Fagin. Fagin looked inside and smiled.

"Why, Bill!" he exclaimed, pulling out the contents of the sack. Nancy's eyes widened. She had never seen so much money in her life! Fagin pulled out each piece and laid them on the table. There were bronze coins, silver ones, gold ones, and notes too, so many notes! Fagin greedily counted out each pound and guinea, his eyes shining. Toby stared at the money as well, as though he couldn't believe what he had managed to acquire. Bill continued to drink with disinterest.

"And eleven more like that?" Fagin asked excitedly when he had concluded counting.

"You see 'em right afore yer eyes, don't you?" Bill growled.

"My boy! Bill my boy! You're a genius! A right genius!" Fagin exclaimed, clapping him on the back. Bill shrugged his hand off agitatedly.

"An' me too!" Toby exclaimed angrily. "What, you fink I just sat on my bum? I 'elped!"

"You was a lookout, I did all the grunt work, didn' I?" Bill demanded.

"Well wivout me you couldna pulled it off, Bill!" Toby rejoined.

Bill and Toby eyed one another with dislike. Then, suddenly, Bill laughed and knocked Toby about the head playfully. "Toby you was a right good lookout, and no mistake. Why, we wouldna made it out without you spottin' the old man's carriage a mile away!"

Toby laughed, elated at his success being appreciated. He doffed his cap. "Toby Crackit, best lookout this side of London, at your service, sir."

The two young men shared a laugh. It was as though Bill were suddenly alive. His face was full of color and his eyes were bright. He and Toby began helping Fagin empty the bags of cash and count them out, drinking in celebration as they did so.

Nancy watched Bill, unaware of how open her stare was. He amazed her. When he came over, she liked to stay underfoot, ready at a moment to run and grab something for him or take his hat or his coat, or put something away for him. And sometimes he would ignore her completely, or brush her away roughly, or even push her aside when she got in his way… but sometimes he would smile at her and lift her up and give her his hat to wear and say she was the brightest little girl, and no mistake. Sometimes both would happen in the course of one visit- he would push her so hard she fell on the floor and crawled into a corner to quietly cry, so no one could see, and then when Fagin called for her to do something he would suddenly smile at her and ask her if she wanted a spot of gin, and laugh heartily when she eagerly nodded her assent. It was like there were two Bill Sikes', and Nancy never knew which one would come to call.

Bill could feel her gaze, and looked up, meeting her eyes with that hard, blue stare. For a moment she thought he would bark at her to go away, but then he smiled and patted his lap. "Come 'ere, little Nance," he said.

Nancy hopped eagerly off her chair and climbed into Bill's lap. "You ever seen money like this afore?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, Mr. Bill," she replied. He chuckled at the name she gave him.

He picked up a small bronze coin and held it in front of her. "Know what this is?" he asked.

"No, Mr. Bill," Nancy said again.

"It's a Ha'pence," he explained, taking her tiny hand in his large, rough one and placing the coin in her palm. "You can buy nice things with that, Nancy."

Nancy giggled and inspected the coin herself. It was smooth, and cold, and looked pretty and shiny.

"You wanna keep it?" he asked, taking it back. Nancy nodded eagerly. "Aright then, just gimme a little kiss for it, and it's yours." Bill held his cheek out to her and tapped it. "A sweet little kiss on the cheek, little Nancy."

Nancy blushed harder than she ever had in her life, and quickly gave his cheek a kiss. His beard was rough and scraggly against her face, and he didn't smell pleasant, but she did it all the same. She would gladly have done it again.

Sikes handed her the coin, and she was just about to bite it like she'd seen Harry do when other boys lost a bet to him and handed him a pence, when Sikes grabbed her wrist roughly in his hand and jerked her about so she was facing him, eye-to-eye. "Look a' my face," he growled. Her eyes locked with his; her heart caught in her throat from fear at the look in his eyes, but she held his gaze all the same. "Now, don't you go kissin' just any man what gives you a shiny penny, you hear me, girl?" he said in a low voice.

Nancy nodded emphatically. "On'y you, Mr. Bill," she squeaked.

He smiled then, and let her wrist go. His hand left red marks on her skin. "On'y me then, little Nance."

Nancy gave the coin a good bite- it hurt her teeth, and it tasted like metal. Then she put it in her pocket.

"Yer a good un', Nance?" Bill asked quietly, so Fagin and Toby, who were counting and cracking jokes, couldn't hear.

"Yes, Mr. Bill," Nancy said.

"Iffin', suppose, someone asked you if you ever saw'd me, what would you tell 'em?" he asked.

"I'd tell them…" Nancy racked her brains- Fagin had gone over with her time and time again what to say to anybody that wasn't her friend asking her about her friends. "That… I'd say, who's that, Sir? I don't know no one by that name."

Bill smiled again and ruffled her hair roughly. "You are a good 'un, Nance."

"Oy, Bill." Fagin bustled over, still holding cash in his hands. "What're you tellin' the little 'un so secretly?"

"Who asked you anyway?" Bill shot back, and he lifted Nancy off his lap and dropped her unceremoniously on the floor, and without a second look turned back to counting with Fagin and Toby.

Nancy, who was used to this, got back on her feet and tottered over to where Harry was sleeping in front of the fire. With a glance at the boy, who had fallen asleep sprawled over the chair with his head tilted back and the pipe still in his hand, she sat, cross legged, and pulled the Halfpenny out of her pocket to examine it further.

It was a good penny, she decided. And she wouldn't spend it. She'd keep it, maybe forever, because Bill Sikes had given it to her, and he was tall and brave and strong like the princes in the stories the older girls told her about. And when a prince gave you a token, you kept it.

_** Author's Note**: First of all, I'd like to thank you for reading!

There are a few things I want to explain:

There have been many adaptations of Oliver Twist over the years. I've seen a lot of them, and I've also read the novel.

Nancy states in the book that she began thieving at 5; 12 years later, when the novel takes place, she's 17. Bill Sikes is described as 35 when the events in the novel take place.

However, what inspired me to write this story was actually the 2007 BBC miniseries, starring Tom Hardy as Sikes and _ as Nancy. If you haven't seen it, let me explain: Their characterization in the series was greatly expanded, and, in my opinion, improved upon. Sikes in the novel has very few redeeming things about him, and it's hard to see why Nancy stays with him, except for out of fear- some adaptations hold true to that. But there are notable differences in the BBC series. Sikes' affection for Nancy is heavily implied, he's much more alive and, if not talkative, more so than in the books. He also very clearly kills himself out of guilt in the end, unlike in the novel where it's left ambiguous. Additionally, Tom Hardy was 30 when the series was made, so I'm reducing Sike's age by 5 years.

If you've stayed with me, and read this far, you're the best! Just a few more points I'd like to make so you can understand the story better.

But like actually Tom Hardy himself sums it up perfectly, if you can watch: watch?v=Ps4GqlIfjRI

The relationship between Sikes and Nancy is not supposed to make the reader feel good, and they're not supposed to understand it. However, in the BBC series, it sort of… does make you feel good, and you do understand it a little. Part of that is possibly how… delicious… Tom Hardy is… Part of it could be that they added in a few scenes between Sikes and Nancy, and part of it is definitely different characterization. That doesn't make the relationship any less destructive or abusive, but it adds dimensions to the characters and almost makes the ending worse to endure.

By the way, Oliver is less of a personality-less little goody two-shoes in the BBC series too. It's worth watching.


End file.
